Something For The Ladies #3

Right then, it's Friday. Time to give the womenfolk of Todger Talk an advisory seeing-to. Here's the drill;

Ladies: If there's ever been anything about men you've wanted to know but were afraid to ask, or wanted a male viewpoint on a certain relationship niggle you're going through, drop an email to us at todger dot talk at googlemail dot com. Every week, we shall pick one out and answer it to the best of our capabilities.

Gentlemen: We would very much appreciate your input on a weekly basis, so the comments section of each Something For The Ladies post will be yours and yours alone. In other words, all female comments will be deleted. Sorry ladies, but in this case we'd be very grateful if you'd hush those sweet keystrokes and let the chaps have their say. Just for today though, we love hearing from you the rest of the week.

This week's question...

CC writes: I am only 25 and I am not being vain - men and women tell me that I am very attractive. My life's in a bit of a rut (my career - I'm a new attorney - isn't what I'd like, but I think that's normal) but I'd still like regular companionship or at least sex (the kind that involves a modicum of respect - not so much one night stands). Why does it seem no one's interested, and being forward only gets me in trouble? When I meet men I am attracted to, they always flirt with me - but then either they immediately want sex, or they just move on and find other people. I don't have bad breath and I do have friends. Is there something I can do to keep their interest, and go from sex interest to love interest?

'Mr Sex' says: Hmm. I think the key here is the second part of your question, so I'm gonna focus on that and let Sam handle the other bits. If you're trying to go from 'sex' to 'love', aren't you going about things arse-about-face? Yes, meeting a saucy madam and immediately getting down to the nitty is all very well and good - but in a lot of cases, where do you go from there?

This may sound hard to believe, but proper men actually adore the thrill of the chase - the feeling that something is slowly building to a crescendo. We love those moments when we hold each other's gaze a bit too long, and start to realise that those goodbye hugs seem to be getting longer and longer. As Jacques Brunswick said in that episode of The Simpsons when he was getting ready to finally cop off with Marge after weeks of flirty bowling lessons...

To the most beautiful moment in life;
better than a deed,
better than a memory,
The moment . . .
of anticipation!

Please don't think I'm suggesting you're slagging it about at the moment. Nor am I saying that you should be a prick-tease. But I think the problem that you and a lot of us have is that we're so excited about being able to run around the sweetshop of no-strings sex, that when we finally work out what we want, we discover that we've forgotten the art of courtship.

That sounds very Barbara Cartland-ish, I know, but if you want the right person to fall in love with you, you've got to give them the time to do so. Yes, he'll want to jump on your bones right away, but if you think he's a keeper, give him a chance to actually think why he wants to. If he loses interest, then he wasn't worth the steam off your piss anyway. If he doesn't, and fills the time by wanting to find out more about you, then off you go.

Sam says: You are caught in the attraction trap. It’s a bit of a nastily ironic thing that actually makes life really quite hard for attractive women.

I remember two clients I had that were models – they were caught in the attraction trap. The men they fancied would never approach them, and the only men that did were player wanker types. The trouble was twofold; firstly they were approached by wankers so often their default flirting signal was essentially ‘fuck off’, and because they were so attractive decent men who fancied them were to scared to approach.

You have to realise that our society puts a ridiculously disproportionate emphasis on how attractive women are. Just a small difference in your level of attractiveness can make a huge difference in terms of earning power (e.g. models) or the way men react to you. If you really attractive, it makes a really, really big difference.

I suspect that you must be just over that attractiveness threshold where the average decent guy is really seriously intimidated about approaching. The catch 22 is that when women approach men they (unfortunately) assume that those women want sex. Also as an attractive woman, quite a few men would secretly like to add you as a notch to their belt to brag about. Really, you are kind of caught between the devil and the deep blue sea.

Contary to popular belief, your attractiveness is actually a kind of disability on the relationship front, or rather it means you have to work a lot harder and smarter to get a guy who just isn't up for a shag.

The solution? Firstly, with guys you find attractive, you have to make it really obvious that you fancy them. I’m talking looking across, catching their eye, and giving them a smile. Secondly you have to make is really easy for them to approach you - e.g., going and standing at the bar next to them when they are getting drinks, playing the damsel in distress and asking them for help or directions etc. You make it really easy for them, but leave it to them to make the first move. That way you get over giving the impression that you are just up for a shag.

Secondly, you need to stick to the good-old fashioned rule of making a man wait. Unfortunately athough it’s the 21st century, if a woman sleeps with a man when they first meet, he tends to assume that she is not long relationship material. Snog him, yes, but make him wait until the 3rd or 4th date before you sleep with him. This also sorts the wheat out from the chaff on the male front; if he’s willing to wait that long, then it’s likely he’s more interested in something long term. Al's put it far more eloquently - make him love the anticipation of the chase, show plenty of interest, but make him wait and dream about the main meal!

Finally you might like to try www.mysinglefriend.com, which is the Selfridges of internet dating. Essentially there are so many other hot and successful women on the site, you'll just blend in - so much so that you'll have to email the guys you fancy rather than wait for them to come to you.

Gentlemen of Todger Talk, what is your advice to this very attractive lady?

Dave: on the pull alone

So many films have captured the romantic ideal of the straightforward pull. Picture the dimly lit bar in some American city, usually East or West coast. Devoid of custom or rammed to the ceiling. A man trudges in, seats himself at the bar and orders a Scotch. Inevitably, there will be at least one woman (usually the same age or possibly younger) also at said bar. And also drinking alone. A brief back and forth of monosyllabic decadence, several more inexpensive drinks and bobs your uncle. Another notch on the bedpost. Or most likely a scratch on the crack-riddled, nicotine-stained wall behind your manky pillow.

Unfortunately, opportunities like this just do not exist. Indeed, did they ever? Was it an entirely fictional premise? In the days when film was based around escapist entertainment as opposed to the modern obsession with documentaries, attempted realism and all the other genres designed to cull the population through mass suicide.

Where is there to go for the opportunity of engaging with a woman you’re yet to meet without either being surrounded by your pissed up mates or having to earn the approval of hers? It’s incredibly rare to see a woman drinking alone in a pub these days. And even in this modern day Pompeii, immediate suspicions surround the lone male drinker. It seems your only way to secure access over the ramparts and into her acknowledgment of your existence is through the company you’re keeping. Even then to cross the moat, you’d need to bring your mates into the conversation. Getting her to relax with raucous tales of the night Gerry got arrested for simulating sex with a traffic cone on the bonnet of a parked police car, blissfully unaware of its inhabitants. I was going to keep going with the impenetrable fortress analogy with a further Portcullis reference. But I think the moat was touching on dangerous ground so I shall not over egg the pudding.

There are clubs, I suppose. An illegitimate free for all for the worst type of primeval butt-rutters. However, owing to the volume of music, it’s less a convenient system of flirting and more a place to get away with touching someone up. Call me over-sensitive but personally I’d rather not end an evening, having misread the signals of one particularly seductive dancer, being made to feel a would-be molester. With that kind of guilt swimming around your head you wouldn’t even be able to go home alone and touch yourself up. Well, not unless you’re a very bad man.

Then some bright spark fooled the public into giving Speed-dating a go. Thank fuck that ludicrous phenomenon died a three minute death. It takes that long to exchange flirtatious glances and breathless pauses between generic compliments. Having a stranger rattling off his or her career, personal or sexual history at pace is precisely why women avoid drinking alone in pubs in the first place. Where’s the appeal in having to sell yourself like a reduced infomercial?

“I dunno, Bob, I’d sure like a little extra for my money.”

“Well, hold on there, Chad. I’m also gonna throw in good hygiene, a winning smile AND a BA(hons) in caring for small furry animals!”

The notion of potential suitors passing between school desks via conveyor belt in order to present a favourable account of themselves before the princess doesn’t even have a novelty factor. Especially when you’re bound to encounter her ugly evil stepsister at the next table.
And of course the infamous Singles nights held discreetly in the function room above your local pub. Advertised as thirty and up, to encompass a broad scope in clientele. But in actual fact only attracting men over sixty hoping for so nubile younger totty, and to there dismay discovering the women had the same idea. The only woman in her thirties whom actually turns up, invariably brings a male friend for moral support. They then spend the first half an hour chatting exclusively to each other before bogging off downstairs to main body of the pub and people nearer their own age group.

So what’s a guy to do? Enlist his friends, rally acquaintances, pay the odd stranger to stand next to him laughing at his hilarious tales of derring-do? Does he have to wait around for the next work-do or birthday party to try and get his end away? Or is it the soul-destroying solo night at a cheesy club, whereby you feel too depressed to channel any appeal into your visage and just end up getting smashed on extortionately priced vodka. But it makes no difference at this point because you’ve been gradually deafened by the excessive thumping generated by some Dutch ‘musician’ with an adjective for a surname.

'Mr Sex': So did the earth move for you?

I don't know what you were doing when the Great Midlands (And Other Bits of England) Earth Tremor of 2008 struck, but I was sitting next to a large box of sex toys, and I immediately thought they'd all gone off at once and, I dunno, were going to leap out and wank me to death.

And yes, like all of you who were up and wondering what the hell was going on, and then calming down a bit, I thought the same thing as millions of people across the country; why wasn't I having sex at that precise moment? That would have been the best brag ever. Sulk.

‘Mr Sex’: Time for some Spring Cleaning

Yeah, I know it’s still winter and the nights are still depressingly early and it’s absolutely bitter, but the sun is out, next door’s cat is spark out on the garden table, the blossoms are tentatively on the bough, and I’m thinking “Fuck it – time to talk about getting them pubes trimmed”

Putting all the Metrosexuality bollocks aside, there’s a lot to be said for pubic topiary. Thanks to the eradication of what some would call ‘70s bush’, and what we in the porn industry used to call ‘fannies like monkey’s faces’, we now live in a world where you can actually go down on a lady without feeling like you’re snogging a Geography teacher. So it’s only the decent thing to sort out the Sherwood Forest down your trousers, so they don’t feel like they’re headbutting Jermaine Jackson circa 1972 over and over.

Even better than that, trimmed or shaven bits are pretty damn sensual. If you have an erogenous zone, surely the prudent thing is to expose it as much as possible, right? And more importantly, a well-kept thatch can put as much as an extra optical inch on your nob, without having to arse about with pills, weights, and all that other shit that doesn’t work.

Obviously, this is something you’re going to want to do yourself, because you won’t be able to nip to the barbers, point at a black-and-white photo of some bloke’s junk, and say “Ooh, that one, please”. Yes, you could get your partner to do it, but you’ll only feel like you’re being prepared for a vasectomy, which isn’t exactly one of the most erotic role-play scenarios I can think of (and there’s also the option of going somewhere for a Back, Crack and Sack. No? Me neither).

Here’s what you need to get rid of your Groinfro for the first time;

A trimmer or clippers (not your flatmate’s or your Dad’s, please, and definitely not a standard shaver with the rotating head-things)

A new razor

A bit of newspaper

Somewhere private, preferably the bathroom

A lot of time

1) The first thing you need is an idea of what you want, the time and determination to stick to it, and the acceptance that you could just go for a tuppenny all-off if it goes tits-up.

2) Next, spread newspaper on floor, get kit off, turn clippers on and gently trim away at the area above your nob. Voila! There’s your extra inch! Feel free to spend the next half an hour or having a good look at it in the mirror, taking photos of it on your mobile, etc.

3) If that’s all you’re bothered about, make sure you don’t forget to trim the side bits to match, whizz it round your cobblers a bit until you’re happy, and you’re done. Now get them pubes in a bin and get a shower.

4) If you’re after something a bit more porn-starish, get in the shower (which, if you have a waterproof trimmer, you should have been from the off), and apply your cream or gel. WARNING: if you have sensitive skin and get allergic reactions from creams when you’re shaving your face, imagine how bad it’ll be down there.

5) You won’t realise how much hair you have down there (and in a bewildering range of nooks and crannies) until you shave for the first time, so expect to be in there for quite some time. Go slowly – unless the lot is coming off, one slip can cock it all up, or worse.

6) If you’re shaving your balls (and you should, because it feels mint afterwards and your girl will be more interested in them), go even slower and more carefully than before. You will find everything much easier to shave when you’re bonked up, as it’s out the way and your scrotum tightens up – and if you can manage that with a razor on your genitals, you’re a better man than I.

7) When you’re done, wash the area properly, and then go and touch it every thirty seconds for the rest of the day. Because you know you’re going to.

Right, here’s the downsides; for starters, it’s a bastard to maintain. Men who shave their bits for the first time discover that within a couple of days, when the stubble grows back, it prickles like buggery. What’s more, it’s going to get a bit pimply, too. In short, if you don’t maintain it, you’re going to have genitals that look like Adrian Mole for a bit. And if you’re single and have the tuppenny all-off, it’s inevitable that after a week or so, you’re going to meet an absolutely stunning girl and take her home, only for her to say “What have you done that for? Have you had crabs?”, and then bombard you with accusatory texts for a week when you’ve given her stubble rash. You have been warned.

Sam: Desperitis

Desperation is something that people can seem to smell a mile away. If flirting is like running a race, then desperation is like running through mud. You don’t get anywhere and you end up looking unattractive.

What is really unfair about Desperitis, is that the more someone needs a relationship, often the less likely they are to be able to find one. Essentially people who are needy are less attractive and people who are desperate are extremely unattractive.

Let’s take a guy I’ll call Jack, who is the epitome of Desperitis. You can just see how desperate he is to find a woman. He signs up first to every single event. He hands out cards with his contact details to every single woman he talks to. He has a kind of half crazed ‘please love me’ look in his eyes. His body language is over the top, he always leans in too close and seems just too interested when he is speed dating. Another fascinating thing is that when one talks with him, whether are a man or a woman, Jack has enormously dilated pupils.

Pupil dilation is a natural response to finding something or someone physically attractive (the black bit in our eyes gets bigger). It is something that babies do when they are young. It is a very clever tactic to make themselves more attractive to their parents and the people who look after them. There has been a fascinating study where people were shown identical pictures of the same people. There was just one simple change – in one of the pictures, the size of their pupils was digitally increased. The photos with larger pupils were universally rated as substantially more attractive then the normal photos.

Poor Jack is so desperate that he is trying to be attractive to everyone he meets. This ends up inevitably having the opposite effect. Essentially, he is showing his cards indiscriminately and far too fast.

By being desperate you are giving a very strong message, I am needy, and also perhaps suggesting that there is something wrong with your life that you are trying to get the other person to fix or fill. Do you remember those experiments at school where you put the two same ends of a magnet together at school and they just pushed away from each other. Well essentially this is what Desperitis does - it pushes people away.

The terrible thing is that this then becomes a self reinforcing cycle. The more you push people away, the more desperate you become. And then the more you push people away. It is a big downward spiral. So how can you pull out?

Let’s take eating as an analogy. If you don’t eat your breakfast, then you get hungry at lunch. The less you eat, the more hungry you become. Emotions in a way are the same – they are a hunger, something that needs to be re-filled on a regular basis. So one way to deal with desperation is to have what we could call an ‘emotional breakfast’. This then fills you up for the day, and changes the way you behave for the rest of the day. By the time lunchtime comes, you can be more relaxed about what you want to eat. If you are desperate, you need to find how to feed your own emotions, before trying to feed off other people. How you actually do this is of course a whole other topic!

Have you ever suffered the effects of desperitis? Know any sufferers?

‘Mr Sex’: If you need an explanation on how depressing this is, then we got a LONG day ahead of us

It's not the policy of Todger Talk to post over the weekend, but then I saw this article on the BBC News website, commissioned in the wake of the conclusion of the Ipswich prostitute murder trial. If you want to see of how completely fucked-up certain men can get over sex, here you go. On one hand, you want to commend the punters who have been interviewed for their honesty, but you also want to use the other hand to slap the living shit out their ignorant, bell-endy faces.

Patrick, Pete and Mark have some things in common. They are all successful, professional men, who work long hours and have to travel away from home. But what really unites them is that they all use prostitutes and are utterly unashamed about it.

I think we’re supposed to be impressed by the fact that they’re all professional and successful, as opposed to, say, Peter Sutcliffe.

He (Patrick) does not appear to have a problem leading a double life with his partner. "She doesn't know. I don't believe it's changed my relationship with her in any way. To some extent I feel closer to her.

This was round about the part where my hand automatically rose to my chin. How does nipping out to pay someone to be de-spunked not change anyone’s relationship with someone they’re married to? Giving up on any hope of a sex life with your missus to order to dip your hand into the Lucky Bag of paid sex with assorted prostitutes doesn’t change your relationship with your partner how? More importantly, how does going off to get a gobble off someone in a massage parlour bring one closer to one’s partner?

"I don't have to demand things that maybe I was demanding from her, like oral sex and things like that. She didn't like doing that. Now I no longer have to ask."

Ooh. ‘Demand’. That’s an interesting word, isn’t it, kids? Maybe if Patrick hadn’t treated a nosh like it was a birthright because he saw someone on a wank video having one, maybe he wouldn’t have to be forking out for one. Just a thought.

Management consultant Pete, 40, from Oxfordshire, is blunt about his motivation for buying sex. "I've not had sex with my wife for at least five years," he says. "In simple terms, it's how I get sex. I've not noticed a change in our relationship at all. "There is no emotional involvement [with the prostitutes]. At the risk of sounding cruel and heartless I don't think I do have a moral issue with it. If I did I wouldn't have done it."

Admittedly, he does have a point here; yes, he is sounding cruel and heartless. If you want sex but don’t want emotional involvement, maybe sex just isn’t for you. If you want an ego boost and can afford it, maybe you should have a wank into a handful of fifty pound notes instead. You'll feel just as good afterwards, and you can run the notes under a tap and put them on the radiator.

Mark says he used to spend a lot of time trying to pick women up in clubs and bars. Now the 31-year-old business consultant from London doesn't have the time.

Well, exactly. Why bother wasting your time talking to a woman like a human being when there’s no guarantee of unprotected anal in a car park at the end of it?

Patrick views it as a totally mundane transaction between adults.

So if it's mundane, why are you doing it, you fucking gibbon?

"I see us as adults. I want to pay and someone wants to sell. As long as I'm not hurting them in any way what harm am I doing. I'm distributing my wealth to people who don't have it."

Well, that puts a new spin on 'trickle-down' economics.Yes Patrick, all of these women desperately wanted to grow up to make a living by sucking on some sweaty, half a century-old IT spod-cock. Presumably, this twat also thinks that, by racking up another line of Wanker Powder on a toilet seat, he’s helping to put a Playstation 3 in the hands of some poor Bolivian urchin.

Pete suggests the world of street prostitution is "probably the grubbiest, grimiest bit". Patrick says he is not tempted, saying it is "risky and not comfortable". Mark's view is also revealing: "There is a slightly exploitative element to street prostitution."

Lovely bit of snobbery here. It’s a bit like viewing child porn in an ornate frame in a country mansion, and looking down your nose at people who watch it on the internet.

"There's always a lot of girls that I know," says Patrick. "We have a good camaraderie. I treat them as my friends and I feel to some extent they confide and talk to me."

THEY FUCKING HATE YOU, PATRICK. THEY LAUGH AT YOUR SONIC THE HEDGEHOG TIE, AND IMITATE YOUR GURNING PIG-MASK OF A COME FACE ON THEIR FAG BREAKS.

Mark's position is clear. If he did meet a woman he suspected was trafficked he would do something about it, there and then.

What, you're gonna slither down the Bat-Pole and mash down assorted Albanian henchmen with obligatory POW! and BIFF! effects?

The real root of prostitution is in the economic system and not the criminal laws, says Patrick. "There are a lot of single mothers who feel that's the only way they can make money. If you want to get rid of prostitution the way is to reform the welfare system."

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(That was me bashing my head against the keyboard over and over again)

Should prostitution be legalised? Course it should. Should shit-thick ignorance be criminalised in its place? Hell yeah. These deluded nob-ends seem to be living in a world where the women loll about on beds in fluffy mules with fruity foreign accents, capitalising on the cow-like frigidness of the local womenfolk by earning a nice bit of cash for their dear old Mams in Potatovia in a sexy, sexy way until Richard Gere comes along, and pimps are evidently crazy funsters with big Afros, that’s all.

According to the BBC, one in ten men currently use prostitutes. And you can forget the traditional myth that they’re all henpecked old men scurrying away from a hatchet-faced missus brandishing a rolling pin; most of them are single and in the prime of their lives. Let’s abandon this ludicrous pretence that it doesn’t happen, but let’s also junk the even more ludicrous pretence that the Pavlovian urge of 10% of the male population to have their genitals joylessly milked in a room above a garage in the scabby end of town by someone who needs fast cash is anything other than a fucked-up situation.

Something For The Ladies #2

Part two of our let-the-chaps-educate-our-female-readers segment, and this one is a cockbird of a question. Here are the rules again;

Ladies: If there's ever been anything about men you've wanted to know but were afraid to ask, or wanted a male viewpoint on a certain relationship niggle you're going through, drop an email to us at todger dot talk at googlemail dot com. Every week, we shall pick one out and answer it to the best of our capabilities.

Gentlemen: We would very much appreciate your input on a weekly basis, so the comments section of each Something For The Ladies post will be yours and yours alone. In other words, all female comments will be deleted. Sorry ladies, but in this case we'd be very grateful if you'd hush those sweet keystrokes and let the chaps have their say. Just for today though, we love hearing from you the rest of the week.

Got that? Good. This week's question...

TheGirl Writes: If a man loses his erection during or before sex (eg. especially when a condom is about to be put on), how would he like the woman to respond? I obviously have my own, personal, ways of dealing with this, eg. flirty humour, some compassion, and enthusiastic blow-jobs, but a) I would be very keen to hear the best responses men would like to receive from a woman when this situation arises (bad pun not intended), and b) I would like to learn how men really feel when this situation happens. For me, it's not a big deal at all - sex ain't just about the penis after all - but for a guy? How do men really feel?

‘Mr Sex’ says: Ooh. God, this is a bastard of a question, because it happened to me very recently. For starters, here’s what you don’t do;

• Assume that it’s your fault that he can’t get bonked up because you’re not attractive to him any more, or any of that bollocks (it’ll make him try harder to do so, which makes it even worse)
• Assume that it’s his fault that he can’t get a stonk-on (because, unless he’s been quaffing pints all night, it usually isn’t)
• Tell him to ‘hurry up and get a bit of fucking blood in it’
• Feel massively sorry for him
• Have a cob-on about it and roll over.

Let’s jump to the second part of the question; as a man, you feel absolutely fucking useless when it happens. For starters, you can’t even begin to work out why it’s not happening. Then, you start to get the feeling that you’ve failed the audition. Then you feel rubbish that you’re not able to satisfy your partner. Then you feel even more rubbish that you can’t satisfy yourself. After that, even if you manage to get it sorted, you start worrying that you’re never going to be as good to go like you used to be ever again. It’s a morbid carousel of doubt and self-loathing, to be honest, which is made even worse when you’re right next to a saucy madam who fancies a bit.

So what to do?

• Yes, oral is good. There’s nothing better than the feeling of growing in someone’s mouth, and the penis is still capable of feeling loads of sensations when on the flop. But even that might not work, so . . .
  
• Give him something to do. By this time he’ll be absolutely desperate to please you, so if you’re going down on him, turn it into a 69. Remind him that he’s also got a tongue, eight fingers and a couple of thumbs – and they’re not likely to go flaccid any time soon. If he can still get you off, his pride will remain intact
  
• Take advantage of the opportunity to point out that he has other erogenous zones, and they’re not all concentrated between his legs.

But yes, a very good question. And a horrible one. Sniff.

Sam says: Well, to be honest Al has pretty much nailed this one.

Really, as a man I just want the woman to be understanding, realise it happens sometimes, have a laugh about it and move on.

It is really quite rubbish as a bloke when things are getting all hot and heavy, and suddenly you’ve got to break the flow by scrambling around to find the little bugger, rip it open with your teeth (why is it condoms are always so hard to open?) and then shove it on yourself. It really breaks your concentration, which is a prime cause of Mr Floppy.

My biggest tip, if you want to avoid this sort of thing, is put the condom on him yourself. Ideally give him a blow job, then when he is really hard either slip it on with your mouth, or with your hand. (having craftily opened the condom while you are giving him the blow job so it’s immediately ready to roll on). If you get really good, he won’t even notice.

Gentlemen of Todger Talk, what is your advice to this lady about how to react? And how does it feel to get the droop?